


A Special Day

by beekeepercain



Series: In Fewer Words [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Brotherly Love, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: Sam leaves Dean wandering around the bunker blindfolded, then disappears.





	

* * *

 

Dean hates the blindfold. It makes him feel weak and useless, but Sam insists that it’ll help them to learn to navigate their surroundings even while incapacitated that way - but even the bunker just seems too big to comprehend, and in the darkness, he suddenly doesn’t know its corridors and rooms as well as he thought he did. Maybe it’s because he had Sam bring him around a few times like that until he lost track of where exactly they were, or maybe he’s just really bad at navigating things blind, but he’s not entirely sure which corridor this is. He feels doors, but none of the handles feel like the handles to the bedrooms. The storage, maybe? 

The air should be cooler there. Drier. Dustier. But it’s not. So maybe these _are_  the doors to the bedrooms, but just not in the exact place he thought he was in?

Dean’s ears are ringing. He stops to breathe and listen: the last time he heard Sam was probably twenty minutes ago, and ever since, the bunker’s been awfully quiet.

“Sammy?” he calls out, his voice uncertain, “Hey, uh, you out there, man?”

No answer.

Swallowing a grunt, Dean places his hand back on the wall and starts tracking his way down the corridor, but this time, he’s quiet. If that son of a bitch is lurking nearby, snickering at him -

Then, something knocks, perhaps a chair against the floor; the sound echoes through the space Dean’s in, and he suddenly knows where he is. The kitchen corridor. He doesn’t hang around here much, there’s no need to; they use the other entrance to the sparring room. But it’s definitely the kitchen corridor, and the sound came from the war room. Now with steady steps, Dean follows the sound and the feel of the space around him towards a new destination.

Sam just _left_  him there, alone? What if he knocked into something and got injured?

In an empty corridor?

Another grunt. He finds the doorway to the kitchen and navigates his way, now much more efficiently, through the familiar space. From there, the way to the war room is short, and before long he’s standing there feeling achieved and proud, and the chair knocks against the floor again and Sam’s laughing.

“You found me,” he says in a happy tone as he moves beside Dean and starts undoing the blindfold for him.

“I swear this is the worst exercise you ever made up, Sammy,” Dean grunts as pressure relieves over his face and the cloth no longer buries into his skin.

“I’m sorry. I had to keep you busy for ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Look,” Sam laughs and the blindfold comes off.

The first thing that Dean sees is Castiel, sitting at the table and beaming at him; his blue eyes seem light and unweary today, and he’s happy, and it’s been such a damn long time since Dean saw him out of battle, unscathed, that his smile awkwardly catches onto Dean’s lips as well. His heart skips a beat as he looks at Sam, brows raised; the gang’s there, alright.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Don’t you know what date it is?” Sam chuckles, now a little disbelieving, “C’mon. Think.”

“It’s January, twenty… _oh._ ”

Dean turns his gaze back to Castiel, and from there, to the table. Now he sees the big pie laid out there with whipped cream on top of it, and he swallows before turning back to Sam.

“We don’t do birthdays, Sammy,” he reminds him uncertainly.

“I thought we might as well start. I mean, 38 - it’s a good number for a hunter, right? So - happy birthday, big brother.”

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Castiel chimes in, his smile widening.  
He pulls out the chair at the end of the table and turns it towards Dean.

Swallowing again, Dean feels a small shiver cross his spine. His smile trembles a little as he steps forwards, legs shaking, and takes the seat.

“Happy birthday to me,” he mutters quietly as Sam sits next to him, and with his heart still skipping from joy, he takes the first big slice out of the pie and slams it down on his plate.


End file.
